Sheriff Dracula or The Quick and The Undead
by Clayton Overstreet
Summary: What if instead of England Dracula ended up in 19th century America? Note: When feasting on the crew of the ship, don't eat the navigator first.


Sheriff Dracula or The Quick and The Undead

By, Clayton Overstreet

Introduction

Choices shape the world.

Those who are familiar with science fiction and fantasy no doubt know of the subject of parallel worlds. A person makes a choice and in one world things continue on while in another he makes the other choice or something else marginally different and it splits off into its own universe, neither the wiser for the other. From that point it becomes infinitely complicated and the resulting universes develop greater and greater differences, each splitting off into billions of possibilities every moment.

I am your stereotypical cowboy narrator here to tell you a classic tale of the old west with a bit of a twist. Now you folks I'm sure have heard the story of Dracula. A well known tale in which a certain vampire known as Count Dracula developed a burning desire for a woman in England and took it upon himself to travel there and claim her. Once he arrived he tracked her down and faced off against her fiancé, a learned doctor, and various others in a fight to the finish which ultimately he lost.

The story has been rehashed and retold a hundred different ways. In some versions of this story the people recover and live happily ever after. In others the woman succumbs to the vampire's kiss and is forever doomed, despite the best efforts of the others. In still more the vampire escapes or is revived later to try once again. There have been many versions of the story.

In this particular tale which I am recounting Dracula, as he was known, did set out for England in search of his new love aboard a ship. Unfortunately after the voyage began along the way the blood sucking fiend felt a bit hungry and the crew began to fall one by one to a strange "disease" until there were none left. Now while he did get a darn good meal out of it Dracula made a crucial error in his dining choices and learned an important lesson: **When on a long sea voyage, do not eat the navigator.**

Our story begins in a small dock on the East coast of America. The Rusty Anchor was a seaside bar, mostly catering to dock workers and sailors on their way to somewhere else. The bartender was a crusty old seadog missing three fingers, two toes, a lot of his yellowed and blackened teeth, and who had taken scurvy to new heights in a man still walking upright. Nobody bothered to tell him to clean up his act. Most of the customers looked just as bad or worse and those that looked better generally found other places to drink rather than enter let alone if they saw the people inside.

Which was why the two fairly well dressed men who entered the bar attracted a lot of attention as they stepped confidently inside. One of them was short and dressed like a banker. He peered around through tiny glasses, eyeing the dark corners of the room as if looking for vermin, but with a hungry look rather than the distate one would expect. He held a set of cases in his hands. One man by the door was looking outside the dirties window a the large black carriage, mildly disturbed by the shiny ornate coffin tied to the roof with the other luggage. Strange, he thought, how none of them had heard the wheels rattling on such a large and heavy carriage so late at night nor seen a lantern.

The other man quickly drew all the attention away from his bookish friend and their luggae. He was tall and wore a gray suit. His long black hair was slicked down into a widow's peak and went down to his shoulder. His skin was so pale his red lips looked as if they were colored with lipstick or blood except for the two ivory points dimpling the bottom lip. He lightly held an ebony cane he clearly did not need as he eyed the room with a magnetic gaze that attracted everyone to his strange eyes.

So nobody was looking when the mirror behind the bar shattered, making everyone jump at once and turn away.

"My vord Renfield," the man said with a thick foreign accent. A few of the more suspicious men looked back, noting that neither of them had so much as flinched with the others. "How do you suppose that happened?"

"No idea master," the man said with a large grin.

They walked inside, heading for the bar. The bartender, looking between them and the broken glass around his feet, said, "What do you two want?"

"I'd like a drink good sir," the smaller man said. He eyed the bottles behind the bar. "Is that a worm in that bottle?"

The bartender, a man who took polite compliments as deadly insults, grinned. "That'd be tequila. Would you like a shot? They say it's good luck to keep drinking until you reach the worm and only the toughest swallow it."

"Oh I believe I'll have a whole mug if you don't mind."

Now the sailors were watchign with a grin, their unsease forgotten. Clearly this was some foreign dandy and his servant lost on the docks. Even Dirty Harry the biggest baddest longshoreman around had fallen like a log before finishing his fourth shot of tequila and had spit out the worm. The bartender was only too happy to oblige as he filled a mug.

"Make sure I get the worm," the little one said, surprising many of them. Betting began in a quiet way. The little man must have decided to look tough in front of the big bad sailors. Such things were often very funny. The bets did not focus on whether he would drink the whole thing, but how long until he was passed out or puking on the floor.

The bartender slid his mug over, the worm floating inside, and turned to the well dressed genleman. "What can I get you mate? A bit of whiskey?"

"I never drink… viskey," he said. "I am looking for a room where my companion and I can stay for a time."

"I'm all booked up. Nobody around here leaves until just before sunrise and I don't serve breakfast."

"Excellent," the man said. "I tend to sleep in the day. My personal habits make me a bit of a night owl. As for breakfast I have already eaten tonight and can arrange my own meals."

"You and half the people in here," the bartender muttered. He rarely woke up before noon on most days and tended to knife anyone responsible for waking him before that. "Fine, if you do not mind a bit of a wait, I'll let ya have whatever room clears out first. I take no responsibility for anything anybody did to it before you got there." This did not seem to be a problem.

Before he could ask for money the man's hand swept across the bar like a shadow depositing a large gold coin. Just as fast the bartender's hand darted out and scooped up the coin, pocketing it before it attracted too much attention. "I am paying for three months, possibly more, and for your discretion. I do not vish to be distubed until after sunset on any day unless the building is on fire."

"Aye sir!" The bartender was suddenly much happier to be of assistance. Hell if he had known the man would pay that much he would have offered to kick someone out. He glanced at the rest of the room quickly to see if anyone was planning to make a play for the coin.

Instead he found the whole room looking elsewhere and realized the only sound was a low gulp. Turning he was just in time to see the little man finish gulping down that Mexican rotgut like it was water. Then he made chewing motions and swallowed. Rather than cry or pass out he burped loudly. "Yum." He pushed the mug forward. "Excuse me sir, but do you have any more? Perhaps with extra worms."

Looking for the trick and checking the floor incase he had somehow spilled the drink without anyone seeing it, the bartender said, "Uh, I don't get much call for tequila. I'd have to send someone out to get more."

"Nevermind," the taller man said. "This place seems infested with rats and cockroaches and other things I cannot qvite identify. I assure you Renfield here vill be able to fend for himself."

"Will there be anything else first, master?" Renfield asked. The tall man shook his head. An excited look came over the small man. "Excuse me then." He headed for one of the darker corners. To everyone's amazement there was a sudden fearful squeaking from a large sewer rat that was suddenly cut off by a loud wet crunch. Some of the men decided to pay for their drinks and leave. Others looked on with interest. One or two shrugged, a little surprised to see a man in good clothes doing it, but it was nothing they had not seen before.

A man came up and leanedon the bar next to the gentleman who seemed not to notice. "I knows you."

The tall man turned and lifted an eyebrow. "I do not believe ve haff met."

"Nah, but I seen yer. The other night when that ship crashed into the docks. The Demitri it were called. I even helped unload the bodies." Around the the crowd drank and pretended not to listen, unaware that the gentleman at the bar could hear the change in their heartbeats. "They say your man there were living for weeks on seagulls and barnacles as ya drifted. That you was sealed in a box down in the hold."

Smiling the man said, "I'm afraid that's true. You see there vas something wrong vith the crew of that ship. Possibly some illness they picked up in foreign parts. I locked myself in the hold and hid inside a coffin I was transporting along vith me as it ravaged them. Fortunately Renfield vas fine, though as food ran low the poor man had to result to hunting what vermine he could find onboard. I believe he has developed a bit of a taste for them.

"I have kept the coffin vich I now sleep in, as it kept me safe for those long dreary days at sea. It may seem odd to you sir, but I find it… comforting." He smiled and the man backed away, staring at the huge sharp teeth.

"Land sakes boy, I ain't seen teeth like that on anything short of a shark!" He extended his hand. "So what's your name?"

Shaking it he said, "Forgive me I am so vell known back home I forget to introduce myself at times. I am Vladimir Dracula, prince of Walachia and later count of Transylvania." He shrugged. "You see things change over the… years and titles are taken and regained and changed vith marriages and such. Let us say I am a nobleman and leave it there."

"Well Count Dracula, I'm Shamus O'Toole, career sailor. What brings you to America?"

"A mistake I'm afraid," the man admitted. "You see I vas on my vay to England in an attempt to vin a lady's heart before she married her official betrothed. Sadly my… extended woyage has delayed me and I fear I have long since missed my opportunity."

"You was heading all the way to England from wherever just to meet a lady? They say you foreigners are different, but boy howdy. Weren't there any girls back where you came from?"

Dracula smirked ruefully. "Yes, but I saw her picture and she reminded wary much of a woman I knew in my younger days. So I decided to pursue her. I do not vish to brag, but no woman I have desired has ever escaped." He shrugged his shoulders. "So vile I temporarily delayed my rival for her affections I made arrangements to purchase some land near her home and sent many of my things to England in preperation. I sent many of my belongings on ahead, bid my vives a fond fairwell leaving my castle and lands in their capable… hands… and vas off."

The sailor's eyes widened. "Your _wives_?"

"Yes, I have three, each a beautiful and seductive voman in her own right."

"And you was still going after this guy's girl on the other side of the world? Well hell, no wonder ya don't miss with the ladies… though I'm guessing you don't tell them about the little ladies back in your… castle you said?"

Dracula laughed in a deep rumble, almost like a wolf's growl. "Let us say that the questions does not often come up. And in my country such things are not as taboo as they are in other parts of the world. My rival in love was nearly seduced by them in my own castle. After a certain time married one must expect a love to stray for variety."

"I understand that," the man said. He signalled the bartender for a mug of beer. Now that the two men were chatting about slightly strange version of an all too familiar topic, most of the room's attention had either wandered or gone back to Renfield in a new round of betting on what he would eat next. "I been married for near twenty years myself, but I'm often off at sea earning a living for me own wife and a pack of ungrateful kids I ain't even sure are mine. A man has needs and so do women if you want to admit it. If you happen to relieve them in a far away port with a willing woman well who says the little woman need know, eh?"

"In my land I am the unquestioned master," Dracula told him. "I do not need to justify myself to my… little vomen as you say."

"Yeah, well just keep it under your hat if you ever run into a woman named Sadie O'Toole just the same. Last thing I need is her wondering if some foreign muckety-muck has got me having wives in other ports." He gulped his beer. "As if I could live with two a'her." He looked at Dracula. "So what are you doing in this cess pit?"

"Hey," the bartender said.

"Sorry, this upscale and high class cess pit," Shamus said. The bartender nodded and went back to cleaning up the broken mirror. He tried getting a look at Dracula in some of the shards, but somehow he never seemed to get the right angle and gave up. "A man like you would be better off in the kind of place a man like me wouldn't be allowed anywhere near."

"Uh, sadly most of my belongings are between my home and England. I have only some gold coins from my own lands, a few land deeds, and some of my clothes. That and my coffin, that I travel vith as part of a family tradition. An old superstition from back home vich has saved my life. I have sent a letter to England, but until my belongings arrive I vill save money by staying in this place."

"Well from the looks of things your man there is going to help keep the rats under control," Shamus said absently. He had already had a few drinks already and the last few were really putting him over the top. "You seem alright Mr. Dracula. So since I'll be shipping out come morning I'll give you a bit of free advice if you plan to stay that long. Careful where you flash them shiny coins around 'ere. There's men in this part of the town who'll slip into your room and slit your throat from ear to ear fer just one o'them things."

Dracula laughed. "Really? Does that sort of thing happen a lot around here?"

"Heck Vlad," Shamus said. "You could dump a dozen bodies around here a day and it'd just be more for the pile. Nobody cares what happens to an old seaman or a few ladies of the night. Hell they might kill you just so they can sell your body. Othertimes the bodies lay there for days before the smell overpowers all the fish and bird shit attracting rats and gulls. Unless somebody bothers the police about you and your little friend there, they'll just load your body into a meat waggon and haul you out to some pauper's grave figuring your killer left on the last tide."

Turning Dracula called out, "Did you hear that Renfield? People around here get their necks slit all the time and nobody seems to notice. And the ladies of the night… vat lovely sounds they make."

Renfield, swallowed something that was still moving and patted his full belly. "Really master? Then we should be careful. We cpud get hurt." To everyone's surprise the two men laughed.

"You think I'm kidding?" Shamus asked.

"Let us just say I am no stranger to danger. I haff been to var and my enemies learned to fear my name over all things. If someone vere to enter my room, belief me, it vill not be me they find vith my throat torn open."

Shamus laughed, looking Dracula up and down. "If you say so fella. With them long pointy nails of yours and those hands… they don't look like they've seen work in years. More like they belong on some dandy or even a lady than a working man. Still it's your hide." He put his empty mug on the bar, left a few coins and patted Dracula on his shoulder. "It was nice meeting you my friend." Without a backward glance at the stranger he headed for the door.

Renfield rejoined his master at the bad, licking his lips. "So when our things arrive master, what shall we do? On to England to seek lady Mina? Back to Transylvania?"

"No Renfield, I belief I vill spend some time exploring this new country. Back home it is so hard to sit down vith the common man and simply talk. They are far too… judgemental about the little things."

"Like all of those blood drained bodies? You must admit master, your reputation does proceed you."

"Indeed. Yet here I doubt anyvun could point to Transylvania on a map. By now Miss Mina Murray has become Mrs. Harker. By the time I arrive the vill have a house and may even be expecting children. She vill put on veight and… vell as my new friend said, there are vomen everyvere. Vunce my things arrive I can write my vives and let them know to can join us and see vat America has to offer. Vun thing you must admit Renfield, ve have plenty of time."

Looking around himself Renfield considered. It had been a long time since he was a child, dreaming of being an explorer or pioneer. Heading for America and joining the gold rush. Silly dreams forgotten as he took a job at his father's offices and spent his days on paperwork. Then one day he was given a chance to visit a far flung country and get some papers signed on a run down abbey near an insane asylum. Sent ahead to make the arrangements for Jonathan Harker's arrival. See a little of the world before going back to work. His father had even been arranging a meeting with a young lady from a well to do family.

Then he had met Dracula. Admittedly his new servile nature was not so different than how he had been under his father, just more open. Like he was drunk all the time. Okay so eating rats was a new thing, but overall one master traded for another at first and now… a whole new life in the new world. Without paperwork.

"Sounds like fun to me master."

"Wary well Renfield," Dracula said. "Get my coffin off the carriage and ve vill see vat ve can find to fill our nights."

"Yes Master," Renfield said.

Chapter 1

Go West Young Vampire

It was sunset in Devil's Gorge when the black carriage arrived. Not too surprising. The high walls of the canyon the town was built in meant that sunset was always early. Karen Percy was walking towards the Buffalo Chips Music Hall when she stopped and stared. The carriage was ruined with more bullet holes tha a collander. It was amazing that it was still holding together.

Stangely the carriage was all that was damaged. The ornate black and gold coffin and odd crates tied to the roof were fine, the coffin's lid shining like glass. The driver looked calm and unconscerned with the pile of splinters he was driving. The small man looked like the type of banker who joined wagon trains heading for new land and turned around after the third day. Except… something about his eyes. Despite the growing dark his pupils were pinpoints in his gray eyes and they never stopped moving. She realized that even as he drove he was watching the insects buzzing around the streetlights as he passed.

The horses pulling the carriage were dark black and the light struck their coats in a weird way, almost as if there were f aint glow about them. Their shadows seemed odd and even the sound of their hooves on the road was odd. When they passed Karen she felt a darkness and cold, like the wind coming down from the mountains, except there was not so much as a breeze.

At the halfway point of the main street through town the driver pulled up and the side door opened. Karen stared as a well dressed man stepped out calmly and looked around. He wore a gray business suit with a black bow tie and a top hat. He looked like a banker or a cattle baron, the type that did paperwork while other men broke their backs earning them money. He was so pale Karen suspected it had been years since he spent any time in the sunlight. His baring reminded her of a far older man, rather than one of about thirty.

Adjusting himself he said, "Renfield, head out to the property and make sure everything is in place when I arrive. In the meantime I will be at the tailor." His voice was deep and he rolled his R's, but it was clear that if he was a foreigner he was learning to speak with am American accent. His well groomed moustach seemed free of wax and his long hair hung easily behind his hat.

"Yes master, as you command," the other man said in a nasally hissing voice, dripping with obeisance. He flicked the reins and the horses started forward again. Oddly the lights seemed to dim as they passed.

The man noticed Karen and smiled. To her embarassment she took a step back, shocked. She had never seen teeth like that on a man. It looked more like the mountain lion head her father hung in his office. At the same time his eyes had flockered with fire, obviously reflected from the lamps. Then suddenly they were just ordinary if dark black eyes. She quickly schooled her epression and stepped back up. If he was offended the man did not show it.

"Pardon me dear lady… uh ma'am… but would you be able to direct me to the local haberdashery… I mean tailor's shop?"

She smiled. He was trying very hard to fit in with the low class way of doing things, despite obviously being a gentleman. It was so sad it made her take pity on him. "I was just heading there myself," she lied. Her father owned the casino. He would not mind if she was a little late. Okay so maybe he would, but there was nothing he could do abou tit. "I'd be happy to show you."

He smiled, this time, keeping his lips closed, and extended his arm. "It would be an honor."

"May I ask your name sir?" she said.

"How very rude of me. I am Vladimir… Dragonson," he said. "You may call me… Vlad."

"You sound uncertain," she said.

"Ah, the truth is I only came to this country a few years ago. I have found the customs here… let us say that people are more friendly towards a man with a name…"

"They can say?" She laughed. "Don't worry, I understand. Being too foreign can get the wrong kind of idiot riled up and they might even pull a gun. Especially if'n he uses words with more than three syllables. And then things can get…"

"Complicated," he said. "But I have not asked your name. What would it be?"

"Karen Percy," she said. "Daughter of Mister Terence Percy and Mistress Angel and headliner at the Buffalo Chips music hall."

"Headliner?"

"I sing and dance. Quite well." She stopped. "And here we are."

Vlad turned and saw the green awning over the painted window reading Tailor. There were red curtains on either side of the window, some shoes and a manequin in a suit. "Why so it is." He opened the door and let her in first. When he did not follow she looked back curiously. "Pardon, but does the proprietor also live here?"

"Old Fred? Yes, he lives in a room upstairs. It's not much but he calls it home."

"Ah, then perhapse you would be so kind as to ask him to come to the door. I was raised not to enter a residence without an invitation."

"Not even the shop?" He shrugged. "Very well."

Inside the shop always made Karen feel comfortable. The walls were a soft green and there were rolls of fabric everywhere. She could smell the dyes and chemicles mixing in the air. Whole rainbows od colors everwhere she looked and his tools lined up neatly on his work table. In one corner was stool in front of a mirror in three parts and small door leading to the changing room.

"Fred?" She said.

"Coming." He was a all thin man, almost fifty and usually the best dressed man in town. He came in, the watch chain on his vest catching her eye. "Well Karen as I live and breathe. Saw something in the newspaper that you just had to have again? What brings you here so close to show time?"

"Not this week. Though I could use some new garters."

He laughed. "I remember when you used to come in for sun dresses for spring and now here you are a woman of nineteen. Soon you'll be getting married and—"

"Whoa there," she said. "The last thing I need is you marrying me off. By the way, I brought you new cstomer."

Fred looked around. "Where?"

"Oh well he's outside. Seems he's from one of those European places and he won't come into someone's home without their permission."

"Well why didn't you say so?" He hurried past her to the door. "Sorry to keep you waiting sir."

The man nodded. "I was beginning to think I had been forgotten."

"Sorry about that," Karen said. "Fred's an old friend and we got to talking. Fred, this is Vlad Dragonson. Vlad, meet Fred."

"Happy to meet ya."

Vlad took off his hat and nodded. "A leasure. Now if you would not mind inviting me inside. Of your own free will."

"Oh sure, come on in," said Fred, stepping out of the way. "No need to ask. It's just me here since the little woman died."

Vlad stepped inside and returned his hat to his head. "Oh believe me, I had to ask."

"Well then sir, what can I do for ya?"

"Ah, well you see that is a bit of a tale. You see a night's ride from here I'm afraid my manservant and I encountered what I believe you would call bushwackers. Bandits really. I'm afraid they damaged most of my clothing in the attack. Fortunately they left my more valuable items alone, only aiming for the inside, but I was alseep in my…. well I was on the roof and to make room I had put most of my clothes inside where they would be free of dust. Even my man Renfield's clothes are fine, but I'm afraid what I'm wearing is all I have left and just look." He began pointing to various parts of himself.

In the fading light Karen had not seem the holes, but there were a dozen or more bullet holes. "My goodness! It looks like you had a run in with the Milestone boys. Jim Milestone and his men have been working the road in and out of town for months, robbing the richer looking coaches. Then they ride in here to spend and trade what they take."

"And you accept it?"

"They killed the sheriff and well," Fred shrugged. "Money is money. They don't really rob the townfolk as long as we keep our mouthes shut."

To Karen's surprise Dracula smiled, letting the tips of his fangs… teeth show. "How delightfully mercenary of you. I enjoy people who are not too bothered by… conventional morals."

"You don't have a problem profiting from the dead?" Karen asked him.

"Not at all. Much of my fortunes comes from dead ancestors and the people we conquered. The curse nobility must bare I'm afraid. In fact," he turned to Fred. "I would like you to make me many new suits of clothes for all occassions. Is gold acceptable? Or do you prefer coinage?"

"Either way," he said. "There's a jeweler in town how can weigh up a nugget."

"Excellent! You see I felt it was only fare that those who caused me trouble should pay for it." He extended his hand and Fred automatically reached out. He felt cool metal fall into his palm and the brush of ice cold fingers.

Fred looked down and saw the glitter of gold. "You mean you not only survived an attack by Jim Milestone's gang, but you got him to hand over sixteen gold nuggets?" He looked the man over. "I don't see a holster on you anywhere."

"Fred," Karen said, staring at his hand.

"Yes?"

"Those aren't nuggets," she said.

Fred looked again. They looked like nuggets. Clearly they were gold. He didn't need anyone to tell him that. He had seene nough in his life to recognize that shin. Why his own mother had at least five gold teeth in her… gold teeth… "Oh my."

His mind flashed back to the waned posters he had seen of Jim Milestone and his gang the last time he went to the city for supplies. There their ugly faces had been for all to see smiling nastily. The artist had even managed to get the shine on their gold teeth right. Fred had seen them himself a dozen times, especially since they came in constantly to replace hats they had used for target practice while drunk.

As one Karen and Fred looked up at the grinning and suddenly sinister gentleman standing in front of them patiently. Fred swallowed. "What did you say your bussiness was in town stranger?"

"I am the new owner of Ronald Kinsley's farmhouse at the far end of the canyon. If memory serves it is just past a small ravine that allows the river that floaws past this town into the canyon."

"You mean Dark Acres? Hell Kinsley bought that land sight unseen near five years back and never could unload it. Land's fertile enough I suppose, but there's a heavy overhang down there so it's more like a cave and the sun don't shine. Can't even blast it out cause the survey people said it'd ruin the river."

"I traded him the deed to some land in England, a small rundown abbey I was thinking of occupying before coming to America instead. It is a long story."

"Well what are you going to do with it? Nothing lives up there but bats and coyotes. The fishing's not bad, but… well it's known around here as the place where the sun does not shine."

"Ah, the children of the night. Exactly as advertised. It sounds wonderful." He shook his head. "Do not worry. I am quite well off. I have lands and much moneys back in my home country in addition to the large sums I brought with me. Even should those fail me I have always been skilled. I have many other ways to gain any moneys I may need."

"Like ripping the teeth out of men's heads?" Karen asked nervously.

"Gold is gold. In my younger days I fought and we learned quick not to leave useful things on the roadside. If it helps only two of the seven men were alive when I relieved them of their teeth."

"They were alive?" Vlad shrugged. "And how did you kill them? Like Fred said you don't have even a holster… did you take one of their guns?"

He sneered. "No. Their weapons were cheap, though effective and I'm afraid they got rather badly damaged in the scuffle. Bent barrels, blood in the revolving parts and trigger… honestly I just left them in the dirty with the bodies. Their leader had a rather good knife which I believe Renfield added to our luggage."

Fred whistled. "Jim's Bowie knife… he gutted the last man who looked at it too long." He extened his hand. "I'm sorry sir, but I can't accept this. Turn them into the authroties and the bounty on the men would be much more than they're worth."

Vlad waved him off. "Pay it no mind. As I said, I have more than enough for my needs. I much prefer the irony of using them to pay for my clothes and when we're done you are more than welcome to keep the remaining money."

Fred hesitated, but nodded and pocketed the teeth. "Thank you sir. Shall we go over to my mirrors and…"

"No!" He said forcefully, making them jump. "I mean… I do not like… mirrors. I consider them bad luck, especially when buying cloths. I never trust my own opinion on how I look, prefering to rely on other people's reaction."

Fred smiled. "Well sir, can't get farer than that. I'll try not to let you down." He went to his bench and retrieved his tape measure.

"I'll leave you two men to it then," Karen said. She curtsied to Vlad. "It was a pleasure to meet you sir, but I'm afraid I have spent too much time here already. I must be on stage shortly."

"A pleasure. Perhaps when I am done I will get the chance to hear you sing."

Fred laughed. "Karen went to school in New Orleans to learn how to sing. She's got the voice of an angel straight from Heaven."

Vlad frowned at that, but quickly let it slide over him. He also noticed Karen flinch slightly at that, but since she did not ask him he did not ask her. "It will be an honor."

"And since the local ladies of the night call the upstairs home," she said. "I officially invite you in. My daddy owns the place, I can do that, right?"

"Yes and I accept your… invitation." He bowed and took her hand, kissing the back. "Later tonight then."

Karen nodded then turned and ran from the shop.

Vlad turned and paused as he saw something hanging on a rack. A large leather coat with a matching black hat. "I will take that and any spare clothing you have in roughly my size until you can finish my new wardrobe."

"No problem," he said. He was already at work, measuring Vlad's arms and shoulders. "If you leave this here and bring me your others I can also do my best to fix the holes in what you've got." He poked one in the back and then moved around, looking at the front of Vlad's outfit. "Huh?"

"Yes?" Vlad forced himself not to look at the man's neck. You did not eat the help. Particularly before their task was finished. He had learned that at sea. Besides, he hsd eaten more than enough the night before.

"Well it almost looks like these holes were made while you were wearing it."

"Do they? How curious."

Fred realized there was not to be any further discussion of it and shrugged it off. After all, if he had been shot wearing these clothes the man would have feel full of holes too. "What style would you like?"

"Surprise me."

Mister Terence Percy was not happy to see is daughter yet again rush in late and hurry to her dressing room. he followed her and came in as she was shucking off her dress and getting into costume. She screamed and covered herself. "Dad!"

"Oh don't you dare. I've seen you naked a thousand times already."

"Yes, but if I'm not at least a little embarrassed people could start to talk," she said, slipping behind a screen. Her arm darted out and took her dancing dress off the hook. "I'm not that late."

"Yes, but I'm still expected to ream you. It's hard enough with you being the best singer and my daughter without you getting off scot free for breaking the rules. The other girls get jealous."

"I don't care," she said.

"You know that's not true. You grew up with these girls. They're your friends."

"Please, I don't need friends. I have talent. One day soon I'm going to be rich and famous and singing infront of royalty." She came out, looking wonderful and hurried to apply her makeup. "Speaking of which, some big man bought the Kinsley place. I met him as he arrived and showed him to Fred's place."

"Ron finally sold that useless plot of his huh?" It had originally been built on by Gus something or other, a minor in the days when the boomtown had first opened, out to make his money in the sapphire mine. He had been terrified of Indian attacks and people after his claim so he picked a place where nobody could sneak up on him and started his mine. Once his mine was played out he unloaded it on the first sucker to walk by and hightailed it out. "What's he like?"

"Not bad, about thirty I'd say, with a bunch of fancy clothes and some slobbering manservant who calls him master like they're on some plantation. Oh and he killed Jim Milestone and his guys bare handed and us using their gold teeth to pay for his new clothes." Karen smirks at her reflection as behind her, her father nearly swallowed his tongue.

"What? You're telling me some Euro-trash dandy killed the Milestone gang?" He shook his head. "That… I don't know what that is."

Turning she put on a band with an ostrich feather and kissed her father's cheek. "When you figure it out tell me. As it is I have to be on stage in one minute. Bye daddy." She turned and swept out of the room, leaving the stunned man behind her.

Out in the hall she hurried to the backstage area and peered out. Most of the farmers and business men in town ate dinner at home, though some showed up when they did not feel like cooking. The others were local hunters and trappers and traders who passed through town regularly. There was also the mayor and some of her daddy's other friends (the local land owners mostly) getting ready for another poker game. Sometimes they fleeced the out of towners, but mostly they just did it for fun, often not using money so much as favors and IOUs.

Angel, the mistress of the brothel upstairs and her mother sat at the bar chatting with Hugh, the bartender. She was still pretty for being fifty and wore a dress that showed off her legs and almost spilled her breasts out onto the bar. Hugh ended up giving her his paycheck most times. The only reason he was not Karen's father was because her mother had intentionally gotten pregnant by Terence so she could b sure to get preferential treatment to go from whore to madam.

Damn she hated this little town and could not wait to get out. Letters had been sent. Promises of peopl being sent to see her show had been received. Never the less if one of them did not show up in a month or so and take her out of here she was leaving town herself if she had to shoot her way out.

The music from the player piano began and smiling she took the stage, walking past the other girls without so much as a glance. Maybe they would mess up, even thought hey practiced hard to be as good as her. She did not have to. Even without effort she knew she was perfect. The people were almost hypnotised by her voice as she sang,. Their eyes tracked her moement like a frog staring at a beam of light in the night. Each one smiling and in some cases forgetting not to drool.

Except suddenly she was interrupted. People turned from her magnificence to look at something else. The first time it had ever happened. She was upset at first, but then realized that the reason they were looking away was because the wall was on fire.

Just over the large fireplace that kept the room warm and helped light it along with the candles hung an old dusty blanket Terence had bought years ago from an Amish man. He had claimed the beautiful pattern woven in it was a hex sign, used as protection against evil. Clearly some crazy Dutch thing, but it was pretty so he had hung it up in the Buffalo. It had sat there for years, undistubed and gathering dust and ash. Apparently some spark must have drifted up and caught it.

At the same time she noticed the fire she saw a dark shadow enter the room. it moved fast and nobody else seemed to see it, distracted by the fire. But when she looked and her eyes focused she saw Vlad Dragonson sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the room. Something clicked and she realized that he had entered at the exact same moment the blankey had caught fire.

When her eyes caught his he nodded, seemingly oblivious to the fire. Around the room men rushed forward to put out the fire. Shouting and rushing out for water buckets. Vlad extended a hand and even though nobody was near it… well _somebody_ must have bumped it… because the piano started playing again. He seemed to be waiting for her to go on.

Well and audience was an audience. As the other girls scattered she took center stage and sang again.

Unlike the others Vlad did not watch her or fade in slack jawed oblivion. He closed his eyes and moved his fingers absently, like she had seen men do in the opera at New Orleans. The ones who attended the shows without their wive's insistance and knew what all those strange words meant. A man of class no less. Suddenly she felt a tad embarrassed. Clearly Vlad was used to class while she was a music hall girl who did not know a forte from a aria

By now the fire was out and the room was much darker because the fireplace was out too. The rest gave karen some dirty looks, either for not helping or ignoring the plight, but they took their seats and soon went back to their trances.

When she finished Vlad stood and bowed to her and then took his seat again, the black leather coat he wore now like some storybook Texas villain wrapped around him like the wings of a raven. He pushed back his hat and smiled contentedly. Around the room, released from her spell, others began to notice him and whispers spread in the gloom. By the bar Karen noticed her father talking to Hugh and Angel who were looking speculatively at the stranger.

"Gentlemen I believe now I shall take a small break to wet my throat and allow everyone else to recover." There was applause and she stepped down, turning from Vlad and going to the bar. "The usual Hugh." He nodded and got a shot of peach brandy from the bottle he kept special for her.

"Allow me to buy the lady a drink," Vlad said behind her. She looked over her shoulder, wondering if he intended to pay with more teeth. To everyone's surprise he pulld out a large gold coin. "In fact, until this runs out consider this payment for everyone here."

"What'll you have mister?" Hugh asked.

Vlad shook his head. "I never drink in public. Still a friendly mug makes for a good impression, yes?" Everyone cheered. Vlad flipped the coin forward in a perfect arc. It landed on the bar with a metalic tinkle, spinning and hopping around until to everyone's amazement it came to a stop on its edge.

Hugh looked at Terence, unsure what to do. They both eyed the coin, but it showed no sign of tipping ove.r Nervously hugh reached out and took it, looking surrpised as it came easily to his hand. Terence nodded and said, "So be it. Drinks on the house tonight boys!" There was a rush to the bar.

Forced back by the wave of humanity, including one man who had been passing outside, she finally turned and looked him over. "So you are a music lover, Mr. Dragonson."

"Vlad, please. And yes, music can make the nights so much more pleasant."

"And the days?"

"I am not a day person," he said. "but your singing… it intrigues me. There is something otherworldly about it. When you sing I sense a dark power reaching out to take men's minds." She paled and he continued. "Yet beneith it, I heard your true voice and you do indeed sing lovely. You lack experience, but with time you…"

She frowned. "You're questioning my talent. What makes you such an effort."

Now others were listening to the exchange. Someone cracked, "Sounds like a challenge to me."

Vlad smirked. "Indeed. I am no singer but… do you have any musical instruments?"

"A few," her father said. "Sometimes we get musicians through hereand a few racked up debts. Theres a closet in the hallway if you wish to look."

Standing the man in black nodded. I will return momentarily." Moving like a cat he stalked from the room. A moment later he returned clutching a battered old fiddle. "This was taught to me long ago by gypsies. Please excuse the roughness, but I'm afraid to get the sound truly right one must make the instrument yourself to perfection. But I will try to make it a memorable performance."

"Sounds like you're trying to make excuses…" someone started to say, but was silenced as Vlad moved the bow across the strings.

Karen's anger at his early comments faded as first slow haunting music filled the room and then began to pick up speed. She, along with everyone else was caught, but not in a trance. They were all really listening. As the speed picked up vlad began tapping his feet and then dancing. Soon he was twirling inhumanly fast, seemeing to move from one end of the room to the other. Even stranger his shadow seemed to be dancing with him, swelling and shrinking and changing across the walls. It almost seemed to be moving on its own, rather than keeping step with Vlad, but that was probably an illusion caused by the flickering candles.

Soon Karen found Vlad circling her, making her dizzy with his pace. She tried to follow and the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them and the music. For a brief moment she thought she saw his blurred hands enveloped in smoke from the abused violin, but the music played on, even when he suddenly vanished.

"Where did he…?" Everyone else was looking up. She followed suit in time to see Vlad finish his arc up to the ceiling before he landed on his feet as soft as the wind on her other side. The music finally stopped and the room filled with silence until everyone stood up, applauding like mad.

"How did you do that?"

"A lot of practice," he said. "I have… tricks of my own, but I have found over the years that relying on those rather than your own skill can leave you unfullfilled."

"You don't understand. I can't… I already…"

He put a finger to her lips. "No need to explain yourself to me. Secrets should never be shared on a first meeting." He glanced to the side. She looked and saw Renfield peeking through the door. "And it seems I must be going. So many things to do before sunrise. Another time my dear, perhaps when you feel the need to put true effort into your show." He raised his voice as the applause died down. "My friends, enjoy the rest of the evening with my evening to you all. " He turned to the nearest table and blew on the candle. As one every candle in the room went out.

By the time they were lit again Vlad and Renfield were gone. Karen saw her parents looking at her speculatively, as if trying to tell if Vlad had actually impressed her. Truthfully she did not know if she was impressed or still angry, but she was certainly intrigued. Either way she resolved not to talk to them about it, because then she might let slip that in the dark she had felt the brush of cool lips on her neck.

Chapter 2

Being Neighborly

It was two weeks later. Nobody had seen or heard from Vlad since his performance. Still that did not mean that nobody was interested in the stranger who moved in down the road. What was now the Dragonson place took up the last three miles of the gorge. People took telescopes to the old fense that blocked off that area and peered down durring the day, leaning on the peeled paint and gray wood. Since nobody knew much about their neighbor and whether or not he might shoot trespassers, so far nobody was going past the property line.

The house was a collection of stones and mud built into the wall under the overhang. Before it had been one story but now it was three, tall enough not to need a roof any more. Everyone knew the place had a back door that went to the old mine behind it. God alone knew how deep that went before the crazy old man who dug out all the sapphires had pulled up stakes. When it was brought up everyone agreed that now the place was basically a fortress.

"What I don't get is why some rich bastard like that is moving out here in the middle of nowhere," Judge Raymond Gates said. Aside from the mayor he was the only other part of the town government and spent most of his days deciding cases invovling livestock ownership. Technically he was also the sheriff since the last one had died, but since the gang had indeed turned up dead it had never been much of an issue. "Especially one who could do hat he did to those men."

"You got the bounty money, right?" Terence asked, absently shuffling a deck of cards, as was his habit when he had his hands free.

Mayor Clancy Johnson nodded. "Yes. More than enough to boost things around here." The whole town took credit for the bounty. Not easy since apparently however Mr. Dragonson had done to them some animals must have gotten ahold before the men sent out had found the bodies. They had been torn apart and their throats ripped out, though there was surprisingly little blood left behind. Probably just covered up by blowing dirt and leaves. "I've already called in some people to put in pipes and a water tower for irrigation, cleaning up the buildings, digging a few wells and clearing the outhouses. Even some signs down the road so people know we're here. It should make us more stable. Maybe get some more people living out here."

They all could have moved off to ther towns. There were only a few of them and the place had gone downhill since the mines played out, but nobody who was left really wanted to start over again. Being strangers in town was always hard and they had spent years and a lot of effort making Devil's Gorge into a decent little town.

"Seems a little unfair that the man responsible for our good fortune is not profiting from it," the judge's wife Kathryn said. "I thought that maybe on Sunday I could ask him if there was any way we could repay him, but so far the man has not even been to church."

"He's probably busy," the judge said. "Near as I can tell he does most of his work on the property at night. People sometimes see that little man he's with out and about on the property, but so far they have not come in for supplies. Makes me wonder what they're eating out there. Nothing on that land but rodents and bugs."

"Fred said he came in for his new clothes and left the rest of his old ones behind to get the holes sewn up. Nobody else saw him," Terence said. He glanced at Kathryn. "By the way, when you see ivan tell him thanks for taking a look at my girls."

"Something wrong?" Clancy asked. Ivan was the town priest, but also a doctor. Mostly if someone got seriously hurt they got a doctor from the next town, but Ivan could easily handle minor ailments. Apparently his younger brother was a bigtime doctor out in Europe somewhere and had taught Ivan a few things.

"Nothing. A couple of the girls have some animal bites. Just a couple tiny holes on their necks. Might be a bat or something. They've been a little weak and pale and Ivan knew how to brew some herbs up so they're doing better."

"I'm sure he and Mr. Dragonson will get along great when he finally attends church," Kathryn said. "Still I think in the meantime it might be nice if someone rode out there and invited him out to have some fun. It can't be good for a couple of men to be alone out there indefinately."

"Why don't you do it Terry?"

Terence glanced at the mayor. "Me?"

"Well he seemed to like your daughter and I've seen here out with a telescope eyeing the property from time to time lately."

Terence rubbed his chin. "Everybody likes Karen." A lot of men had made plays for his daughter, all of them shot down and sent away. She had avoided becoming a prostitute like her mother and as far as he knew she was still a virgin, far more focused on singing than any man. She may have done something while she was away learning to sing, but she had not come home with a baby so he assumed she was just as much an ice queen then as now.

He knew he was supposed to play the protective father, but Karen had been tough enough that he had never actually had to do it. Now at her age he could see no reason not to at least consider the well travelled rich man as a potential son in law. Besides they were right, it was cold and clinical but his daughter had shown some interest in Mr. Dragonson. "I can head out and see what his intentions are. Anyone else coming with me?"

"Probably a bad idea," the mayor said. "Wouldn't want him to feel threatened. How about you arrange a time with him for us all to get together and maybe go out jackrabbit hunting or something. We can share a bottle of something and shoot a few fluffy rodents and trade stories."  
"He doesn't drink," Terence reminded them. "But I get the point. If he isn't too stuck up I'll see if he can make it." The others nodded and he realized they meant now. With a sigh he got up and headed out to get his horse.

The gorge had a river down the middle east to west, falling down from the mountains. The town ran down the side of it as it curved to the south. Once you got past the building there were plenty of farms past the opening ot the gorge along the road and two more between town and Dragonson's property. Mostly you saw fences, freerange animals, and a few fields.

The Dragonson place was mostly dead except for some brush, a few trees, and a lot of cattails growing along the top of the river. You could still hear the waterfall from the top of the gorge from the house. It fell about forty feet from almost sraight cliff face into a deep pit at the bottom full of dark water that went underground. It sprung up about half a mile away as a large pond before flowing down the valley. Nobody knew how deep it was and the flow down was pretty strong.

As a kid Terence and his friends used to drop things into "The Pit" as it was called. Once they had stuck a bottle on the end of a long rope and dropped it in the pit. They had run out of rope in the end. About a week later they found it tangled in the reeds at the pond, which had quelled any stories about somebody using the place to hide bodies. Kind of disappointing really.

By the time he got his horse to the front door Terence had company. The little man he had heard about was waiting outside the wooden door. Bhind him the stone wall loomed like a medieval castle wall under the overhanging cliff. Under the overhanging cliff the shadows made things seem much colder than normal in the mountain air. Off to the side he saw the new stable, with two strangely dark horses coralled inside, utterly quiet. They like their master must get their exercise at night.

"Howdy stranger," he said brightly. "What's your name?"

"You may call me Renfield," the man said. "I am Master Vlad's servant."

"Glad to hear he's got some help out here," Terence said. "I'm Mr. Terece, I own the Buffalo Chips in town." Renfield nodded. "Me and some of the other men were talking and were wondering if Mr. Dragonson wanted to come on out and enjoy some time with the neighbors. We have church picnics if he likes or sometimes us menfolk get out and shoot some rabbits. If I could just talk to him we can arrange a time. Or if he needs help fixing up the place. You know, whatever we can do to help."

Renfield smiled. "That is quite kind. My master is actually enjoying doing chores around here. He finds it quite restful. However I am afraid that he prefers to sleep in the daytime so I don't think church picnics are likely."

"Ah hell, there's plenty of bullfrogs round here. We can go frog gigging. My daughter knows a great recipe for frog leg gumbo she learned down south."

"Your daughter?" He pursed his lips. "I will ask my master when he wakes up. If he wishes to attend I will gladly delver the message."

"You can come too," he said.

"I do not think so," Renfield said. "Since we arrived in America my master has done his best to fit in, but I find myself more comfortable as the proper English butler. I live to serve and have my own freedoms. Master Vlad is easy enough to cater too and I have much free time. Perhaps once we are established I will patronize your establishment, but I prefer to keep proper class distinctions in place."

So he was good enough to drink and hire whores, but not good enough to mingle with the town government? Terence did not like it, but he accepted it. "You know we abolished slavery a few years ago in this country."

"And in England we did it hundreds of years ago," Renfield said. "However as easy going as he is my master comes from a place where things are different and does expect a certain amount of obedience to his wishes. I find I enjoy my role in my own way." Suddenly Terence pulled a gun from his hip and pointed it at Renfield. "What are you doing?"

"Don't move! Stay perfectly still."

"Sir I don't…"

Terence said, "I'm not trying to shoot you Mr. Renfield, but there is… now don't panic… a scorpion crawling on your shoulder and heading for your face."

Renfield's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes. I think I can get it but don't move…" He started to take aim.

To his shock Renfield suddenly turned and in a flash he reached out and grabbed the scopion by the tail lifting it off. It was one of the small ones that lived in caves. They could either kill a man or make them very sick at best. Terence pointed his gun up He was about to give Renfield his compliments on catching it so fast.

That was when Renfield tossed the deadly little horror into the air like a peanut and caught it in his mouth with a loud crunch. Mouth open he chewed the thing and then swallowed it, a sudden mad grin on his face.

"My god…" Terence felt a mix of impressed, ill, and afraid. But Renfield did not fall over dead from the poison.

Renfield bowed again. "I will gve the master your message Mister Terence. Thank you for stopping by." He turned and went inside, closing the door firmly behind him and leaving an astonished Terence still staring.

It had been a long time since Vlad had been invited out anywhere. Normally it had been by Transylvanian royalty, all too stuck up to listen to the stories told by the peasants. He also patronized the opera and of course his brides on occasion liked to go out. He had been looking forward to mingling with English high society in London, but of course those plans were gone now.

Instead as he and the men went after frogs with sharpened sticks in the night, dazzling them with beams from their lanterns, he was reminded of his days when he was a human. He had spent time in what was now Turkey, learning things of import his family thought he should know as a young noble and other things they never suspected. Then he had returned home to country under seige. It had been like he and his men were nearly equals at times, sharing drinks and food in their cmpfires. Crude jokes, old stories or war and women, and other things with the young lord they had fought beside.

Of course as things changed and word came of armies massing to crush their little country Vlad had changed. He remembered the stories he heard of men who fought in the south. Of places in the desert with so little and whose people were so insane that eventually every invading army had given up trying to conquer it. What was the point? There were barely any people, all of them crazed desert bandits who slaughtered anyone they could find. Easier just to ignore them and move on to places with fertile land and sane people.

So he took their lessons to heart and began to kill his enemies in more… inventive ways. Torture, rape, imaplement… all put on display for the world to see. To tell the truth as he stuck his sharpened spear into a frog and smelled the tiny splash of blood in the air he remembered it well. He also remembered the outraged citizens who turned against him, even as he worked for their freedom from foreign oppressors. He had felt bad about it but soon they too had joined the enemies outside on the spikes. Vlad could not afford to play favorites. Transylvania was too small a country to risk showing weakness.

Who knew that the old tales were right? That a man with the blood of a thousand men on his hands would become a demon in human form, cursed with eternal life as a master vampire, doomed to take he blood of the living to sustain his own unholy existence. Cursed in the eyes of both man and God.

Ah well, one lived with the cards they were dealt. In five hundred yers he had accepted and even come to love his afterlife and foud ways to keep busy. Now here in America he found himself enjoying his afterlife once again and experiencing so many new things. Sadly Devil's Gorge was proving to be a smaller hunting ground than he might have liked and he had been forced to split his feedings between local livestock who were too large to notice the little blood he took and occassional sips from the pretty ladies in town. Risking the creation of a new and uncontrolled vampire in such a small place was not something he wanted to risk yet.

"What's the mattr Vlad?" Clancy asked, wading through the reeds. "You've been taking your shots from the bank all night. Afraid to get your boots wet?"

"Sorry my friends, but I have a problem with running water," he said.

"Aw heck, that's understandable. Lots of people can't swim," Terence said.

Judge Raymond laughed. "Still it is pretty funny, a man who faced down a group of armed men are handed and ripped the teeth from their heads afraid of a bit of water."

"I think of it more as being cautious," Vlad said. "Men can be fought. A river does not care if you hit or shoot it. A river cannot be tricked and only temporarily can it be held back. No man can fight a river. I respect it, as I do many dangerous things."

"Well said," Mayor Johnson said. He pulled out his revolver and took a swig from a silver flash he carried with him. Hey Vlad, how are you with a gun?"

"Ah, I am afraid that such weapons are not well known in my home country. We still use crossbows at best," he said putting his frog in the sack with the others.

Renfield would eat well, whe they brought over their promised gumbo. Vlad had made sure that garlic was not an ingredient. He had been told by Terence, "Hell out here I don't think anyone's seen garlic in years. You want seasoning you got your choice of sage, salt, pepper, and sage plus whatever you can scrounge out of the woods." Vlad had been very happy to hear that.

"Then take mine. Catch!" Clancy said. Dropping his spear Vlad caught it easily, the hlandle falling into his grip and his finger on te trigger. "See if you can shoot one of them frogs."

To everyone's amazement Vlad shot one right in the eye on his first try. "Well this seems easy enough."

"Beginers luck," Terence said. "Try again." Three more went, exactly the same way. "Well hell, that shuts my mouth."

"Let's call it a night boys," Raymond said. He had been more in charge of catching crawdads and had a swollen sack of his own. "The way Vlad here shoots we'll end up running out of frogs and Karen'll have to make enough gumbo to feed the whole town."

"Plenty for the picnic anyway," Terence said. "Speeking of Karen, how do you feel about my daughter Vlad?"

Handing Clancy back his gun, Vlad smiled slightly. It was obvious Terence had been planning to ask about that all night. "I find her intriguing. Yes she is pretty, but I sense… darkness in her. Power and potential as well. She will go far in a short time, though I feel…"

"What?"

"Let us say that a shooting star burns brightly, but not for long," Vlad said. "I have experience in these matters and talents like hers lead to both fame and trajedy. One cannot sacrifice the things it takes to be truly great and expect a long and happy life."

Terence nodded. "I feel that way myself sometimes. That girl of mine, she'd watch the world burn to cinders at her feet as long as she was applauded at the end."

"Let us say that I would like to get to know her better," he said. "I have never taken anything from a woman she has not willingly given and I can offer her assistance in certain circles once I determine exactly what she wants." He nodded his head. "You can trust me on one thing above all. I will go to great lengths to help those I claim as my people and keep safe the place I call home."

"You know Vlad, I believe you. Hell if you want my permission to get to know my daughter you have it. I have to warn you though, so far nobody has so much as twitched that girl's skirt."

"You know Vlad, I was thinking," Raymond said.

"Yes Ray?"

"Well it seems to me that you are a man of good character, even if you ain't from America originally. Hell my own daddy came over on a boat himself, so I can't complain about that. And from everything else we've seen you're alright. How would you like a job in town? If you aren't too busy fixxing this old place up."

"What kind of job?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well we need a new sheriff and heck if your man Renfield is up to it Terence tells us he seems pretty strong for an English lad it sounds like he might be a good deputy."

"Me, a law man?" Vlad said, stunned. "I have done some time in the army and even dispensed sentencing in my own lands on occasion, but I have never been in charge of arresting people."

Raymond laughed. "Oh Hell Vlad, this is Devil's Gorge, not Tombstone. You'd just keep the peace. Wander around town, get to know everyone, and make sure nobody get's into fight. Up until the Milestone gang our worst problems were rowdy drunks. Locals you put in the cells to sleep it off and anyone from out of town you just take out to the city limits with their things and kick them out to walk to the next town. Shoot them if they come back."

Vlad smiled, the tips of his fangs catching the lantern light. "So if someone causes a problem I just make sure they leave town and are never heard from again?" He paused. "How often does that happen?"

"Well we're a stop over town and there's a train that goes through Rabbit's Hollow about twenty miles away. Maybe once or twice a month, a little more if we get busy. We're working on getting a post office soon. Clancy and I barely do more than a bit of paperwork most of the time."

Stroking his moustach Vlad tried not to smile too much. The job of local constable… sheriff, meant that if anyone died he would be the one investigating. If a man started something and did not live in town they could leave and never be heard from again without anyone so much as complaining. If nothing else it would allow him time to let the women regain their strength before he needed to feed again. Between that and the cattle and horses he would have more then enough to eat. He had not celebrated Christmas in centurues, but suddenly he remembered the feeling from when he was a mortal child.

"Do you mind if I work nights?"

"Ha! We prefer it. Don't get many heavy drinkers in the sun. A man with a hangover prefers to avoid the daylight." He extended his hand. "Of course if there's an emergency we may need help."

"I can walk in the day if I have to," Vlad admitted. "I do not like it though so be aware, if anybody bothers me before sundown for anything other than a life and death emergency, I will kill them." He smiled and shook the judge's hand.

"Don't blame you," Raymond said. "We'll get you a good gun and a badge so it's all official. Welcome to Devil's Gorge Sheriff Vlad Dragonson." When he retrieved his hand he said, "Damn Vlad, we have been at this too long. Your hands feel like ice."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." The others shook his hand and did so happily. When he got to Terence Vlad said, "Tell your daughter that if she may come to my home any night she wishes. Perhaps with this gumbo you have promised me. I will treat her as a guest and a lady, as I would a visiting noblewoman of my own country."

"Well la-di-da," he said with a grin. "Just what Karen needs, another reason to have a swelled head." The men returned to their steeds with their sacks of frogs and crayfish.. With a finial wave they began following the road back to town.

Vlad watched until they were out of sight and bent down to retrieve his frog gig. Absently he brought it to his lips and licked the amphibian blood from the tip. Not his favorite of course, but a nice change of pace.

Renfield came from the nearby brush, chewing on a lizard that was still twitching in his hand. "Any problems master?"

"No Renfield, in fact I rather enjoyed the evening. Navk home it get's so tiresome when the neighbors come to visit brandishing crosses, garlic, pitchforks, and burning torches. Admittedly spearing river creatures is not what my class is used to, but there was a certain satisfaction none the less." He turned to renfield. "I also have accepted a job. You and I are now Devil's Gorge's new sheriff and deputy, in charge of law and order."

Renfield snickered. "I believe the American term is yee-haw, Master."

"Yee-haw indeed Renfield," Dracula said.

Miss Karen Percy arrived a little before midnight two days later. She had taken a cart to the edge of the Dragonson place. She was about to get down from it and open the gate when to her surprise it swung open itself with a loud creek. In the light of the moon and her lantern she could see no sign of anyone to have opened it. She felt a brief shudder move up her spine and noticed the horse nervously stomping its foot as she flicked the reins. Whe she was inside it slammed shut behind her, naking her jump.

"Fool," she told herself. "You have seen some of thos new devices. Lights and speaking boxes. So someone has a way to open a gate from afar if he chooses." Refusing to even check to see if any such device was there she urged her horse onward.

At the house Renfield was once again waiting, bowing low as she pulled up and then offering his hand as she got down. As haughty as any duchess and took it and stepped daintily down, reaching in the back for the covered basket holding the food she had brought.

"Mr. Dragonson invited me," she said.

"You are expected miss," Renfield told her. "Please feel free to go inside while I attend your horse. Our own horses tend to feed on what they and I can catch… uh… find in the wolds around here, but we have spare hay and water."

She looked at him suspiciously, but nodded in the end. "That will be fine." She brushed past him and reached for the doorknob. Just as she touched it she heard loud howling, filling the air. "Are those coyotes?"

"Oh yes, we found many of them living above in the woods on the mountain. The master likes to listen to them at night."

She frowned looking up at the walls of the gorge. Now ladder or stairs were in sight. Only verticle walls of stone and loose dirt. "You climb up there?" He smiled and moved to lead the horse and cart aside. Karen had the feeling that she was being teased, but could not quite figure out how.

Inside the first floor was much different than when she had beeh here before as a child. The room was large and the fireplace at the other end was bigger than her dressing room. Vlad sat in a large leather chair next to it weating a gray suit minus the jacket. Across from him was an empty couch. As she approached he stood and bowed to her. "Good evening. Welcome to my home. Enter of your own free will with my invitation."

"How formal," she said with a slight smile. "Do you greet everyone the same way?"

"Yes. I also generally expect to gain an invitation to enter before I step through the door of another's home."

"Your man Renfield…"

"Yes, you miss were already invited, but I was taught to extend the niceties." He winked at her and came forward, extending his hand. She took it and he led her to the couch. With his free hand he took the basket. "I take it this is your famous gumbo?"

She blushed and took a seat. He let her go and lifted the covering. Inside was a small covered pot. He opened it and found himself looking at an odd soup. "I'm afraid this far out there is no way to make it properly. In New Orleans I learned the proper way to make it, but seasonings and alligator meat are hard to come by and you and my father's other friends did not bring any snakes."

"If you expect to shock me, you have not seen Transylvanian cooking," he said, setting the basket by the fireplace. "I'm sure Renfield will enjoy it."

"You do not intend to eat it yourself?"

"I tend to eat a highly restrictive diet," he said. "It is no insult to you and your cooking." He sat down and smiled at her, steepling his fingers.

"Oh don't worry, I'm not really much of a cook. Still sir, you do not drink and now you do not eat. You do not strike me as being much of a dinner guest."

"Ah, but I do on occasion share a meal with people. However when I invite them to my home I prefer to play host and sup in private with the guest of my own choosing."

"You mean me?"

"Maybe. After I have learned a thing or two about you. You my dear, are no ordinary woman. I sensed it that first night."

Her eyes narrowed. For a moment she considered acting dumb or flat out lying. Something about the man in front of her made her feel thatthis would be pointless. "Is it common where you come from to question your invited guests about personal matters?"

"I will not compel you to answer me," he said. "But let us say that if you do I may be able to help you. You my dear are a strong and capable woman. You have given up much to be a star. Yet underneith I sense… fear. You are hunted in some way, maybe by time itself. Whatever it is that drives you, it assures that you are very short on patience."

She turned and looked at the fire. "Are you a mind reader Mister Dragonson?"

"Please, call me Vlad," he said. "I will call you Karen. And yes, I can read minds, though I am not doing so now. I am merely exercizing my experience with people and what I know of you, including things no other man can tell."

"Oh? Well if you can read minds why ask me?" He did not say anything. He knew he did not have to. For all her strength this was a young woman, one with a secret. She was used to keeping it, but he could tell she wanted an excuse to talk. "If I tell you my secret, would you agree to share yours with me? Will you tell me something about yourself that nobody else knows?"

"My lady, I can promise you that anything you tell me I will take with me to the grave. If you wish I will tell you my secrets without you telling me yours. I have never been one to hide."

That did it. She relaxed visibly, some of the stiffness of her body leaving her shoulders under the yellow sundress she wore. "Would it shock you… would you even believe me… if I told you I do not own my soul sir?" Vlad sat silently. "In New Orleans there were so many of us, desperate to make it big. A girl only has so long… so many chances to improve herself and learn to really sing. To become rich and famous and something other than a farmer's wife or… a woman of easy virtue like my mother. Do you know how many women in cathouses start out wanting to be singers and dancers only to fail and rather than starve they…"

Vlad smiled. "Believe me, I have seen it all."

"Have you?"

"I like to get out at night. I spent my first year in this country living on the docks in your Eastern states until my things arrived. I saw many women do many things that would shock even you and your lovely mother. All of which I have done myself at times."

"Yes, well you think women want nothing more than to lay on their backs?"

"My wives all did," he said. "But concubines tend to choose such. It depends on the woman."

"Wives?" She said.

"Yes, three that I married." He smiled playfully. "I saw all three of them into their coffins."

"Oh you are a widower?"

"Something like that. But enough about me for the moment. Do go on."

She nodded. "Anyway I heard from a woman about a ritual. Perform it as a crossroads and a devil will appear, she said. In exchange for your soul he will give you ten years as the greatest performer in the world. A guarantee. I could stop working so hard, wasting my time to be mediocre at best…"

Vlad nodded. "And then the devil appeared and you made the deal. You agreed in haste and now you have… how long?"

"Less than nine years," she said. She looked up, her chin firm. "I do not care if you think me mad sir, but I made the deal and do not regret it."

He shook his head. "Oh I believe you. I can sense the darkness inside you. The power of your voice is obviously not possible for a mere mortal. And I admire your dedication and self asessment."

"What do you mean?"

"I have heard you sing and you were right to make your deal. You fear an ordinary life, but your voice… it would take you decades of practice to be the star you dreamed of. In these times a woman like you would be lucky to live that long." His words were harsh, but his tone was of someone saying the sky was blue and that rabbits had fur. "You have the potential and the will to succeed, but not the time."

"You really understand?"

"Oh yes. You see in my country of Transylvania we had a leader. We were small and largely undefended. Rather than fall he slaughtered hundreds of people in viscious bloody ways and displayed them for friend and foe alike. He would impale his men alive on spikes, much like the frogs in your gumbo, and eat feasts from tables set among their still twitching bodies as they screamed for death. The tales spread of his evil. Soon his very name became something with which to frighten people; children and grown men alike." The fire seemed to darken and despite it's crackling the room seemed to get colder. "He did all of this to make invasion of his small country unthinkable to his enemies.

"Some say that to this day he still lives. That he feeds on the blood of the living, as one of the undead. A vampire we say, back in the old country. The villagers hide themselves away at night lest he and his undead minions take the form of wolves or bats, descending from his castle to use his sharp fangs to tear their throats open. His strength they say is that of a demon and in the hundreds of years since those days he has leaned black magic and developed powers that rival the devil's own."

Karen forced a laugh, unwilling to show fear. "That is a cute ghost story, Vlad. Do you tell them often in Pennsylvania… I mean Transylvania?"

He laughed. "True, I know many scary stories learned and told on the long nights. I know stories that would turn you white and squeaze the life from your heart in fear." He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper. "But you asked me to tell you about me. I am sorry to dwarf your own tale of evil, but false modesty has never been a trait of the nobility."

Karen stood up. "I did not come here to be insulted and lied to Mr. Dragonson— Aaiiiieeee!" She shot backwards, falling onto the couch. "Holy hell!"

Vlad was grinning, showing off his fangs in full detail. His eyes flickered with flames. They could have been reflected, except that the fireplace was no longer burning. The only flickering light came from those fiery orbs.

Then suddenly the fire sprang back to life and despite his fangs Vlad looked almost normal again. "I do not break my given word child. In more than four hundred years I have kept every promise I have made. My black heart contains evil the likes of which Lucifer himself would find appalling, but I still have my honor."

"Four hundred years?" She gasped. "That's impossible…"

"As impossible as selling one's soul to a demon?" He smiled at her. "As I said I admire someone willing to do anything to attain their goal."

She moved away, around him and towards the door.

Watching her edge off, unwilling to look away lest he spring for her, he said with a sharp grin, "Now we both know each other's secret. Seen the darkness inside. Know something about each other that would certainly turn our neighbors against us in a wave of righteous bloodlust."

"And?"

"And I bid you a good night miss," he said. Vlad waved a hand and the door opened. "It would not do to keep you up much later. A young lady needs her rest before she appears on stage."

Unsure what else to say she quietly turned and walked towards the door. Still it was hard to keep from running. This man… whatever he was… scared her more than the demon she had met on that night. She could feel his eyes on her and she wondered, did he speak truth or was he at any moment going to leap and tear her throat out with his fangs?

She made it to the door and found Renfield, waiting and holding her horse's rein. "Evening miss."

"Thank you… Renfield." She said. He helped her up and she began the trip home, purposefully ignoring anything that looked like a shadow that may or may not have been following her.

Karen found her mother awake when she got home. She sat at the kitchen table, lit by candlelight. Angel was a hard woman, but she did love her daughter and worried about her. "How was your evening? Considering the trip you were not there long."

"No?" She asked. "To be honest it seemed like a long time." How long had she spoken with Vlad? A few moments. Yet she had told him her deepest secret and learned things about him that scared her more than even the demon had. "Mother, can you tell me something?"

"If I can."

"If you could get something you really want easily or by working hard and earning it, which would you pick?"

Angel shrugged. "Depends on what it is and why I want it. I can get sex, easy gratification and money too but lifting my skirt and gving a saucy wink. Can't get love that way, though it's a good start." She looked up at her daughter. "Anything you need to tell me?"

Taking a deep breath Karen smiled and kissed her mother's cheek. "Goodnight."

Chapter 3

Sheriff Dracula

Now in most cases vampires are circumspect, keeping to the shadows and doing their best to blend in with society. Our friend Dracula on the other hand has never been less than outgoing in what he is. It took Johnathan Harker less than a night to figure out something was wrong when he stayed at Dracula's castle, spying the count and his brides performing many inhuman acts. Vlad did not come out and tell people what he was, but it soon became clear to the folk of Devil's Gorge that the new sheriff was no ordinary man.

At first it was the little things. The way he never came out in the daylight, that nobody ever saw him eat, and the way his servant Renfield was once caught raiding mayor Johnson's chicken coup. Sure he paid for the chickens after, but it was a mess. Everyone was sure hehad been a circus geek or something.

Vlad took to his job as sheriff easily enough. Renfield handled the day to day operations, checking in to see if there were complaints. If there was it usually involved a drunken brawl of some kind. Locals were put in the cells until they sobered up. At sundown if anyone from out of town had caused trouble Vlad would walk them out of town, never to be seen again. Clearly Vlad had sent them away in his kind way in good spirits because none ever came back to complain.

Other times he would simply walk through the town. He would give a nod to anyone he met and received one in return. Sometimes he would stop and chat, obviously not playing up his new authority. He moved through town like a shadow and people felt reassured, though at first few of them took him very seriously at first. By this time it had been agreed, though never said out loud, that the Milestone boys had been shot down by someone else or maybe each other and Vlad had just found the bodies. Maybe even shot up his things himself to make a good impression. There was no way the pale gentleman from the end of the gorge who always had a kind word for everyone was really some sort of killer.

Two guns and a star had been added to his wardrobe. On his hip was an ivory handled pistol and on his back was a black shotgun. The silver star gleamed on his black coat over his heart. Not that he ever needed it. When Vlad came across a problem the people of Devil's Gorge were very impressed with the way he ust had to look into the combatant's eyes and tell them to calm down for the fight to suddenly be settled. Even the orneriest cusses were usually putty in his hands.

Still even the powers of the undead sometimes failed in the face of human stupidity. About three months after he started a man in the Buffalo Chips was causing a problem with some of the ladies. He was a young rich looking man, wore a suit and had a half empty bottle of whiskey on his table. Vlad came in just as she slapped him across he face. The man rose snarling and pulled his gun.

"Stop!" Vlad said, just as the man cocked the trigger. He looked over, noticed the star on Vlad's chest, and clenched his jaw. "What seems to be the problem here?"

'This whore slapped me," he said.

"Only because he was being rude," Josephine (whose real name was Abby) said. "He said he wouldn't pay unless I sucked him off for free first." She lifted her nose. "I'm not that kind of lady."

"Lady my ass," the man said.

Vlad smiled. "Sir, the lady's goods and services are hers to price, not yours. She seems willing enough if you meet her price."

"Ha! Why should I have to pay for it?" He picked up his bottle and took a swig, splashing some down his shirt. "I'm an important man. Henry Rutherford the third. I'm from the railway company. My father owns it you see. I'm in charge of a survey team that could send a railway right past this little town of yours." There was a mumble from the people around the room. "I don't think a little bit of free fun with a cheap whore is asking much, do you?" Around the room men and other hookers made sounds of agreement.

Vlad smiled and looked at Josephine. "Do you agree?"

She looked uncertain. It was clear she did not like the man, but the room was against her. "I suppose…"

"Who do you think you are bitch?" The man said, slamming the bottle back on the table. "Who are you to haggle with your betters? Do you know who my father is?"

She glared at him. "I don't care. I wouldn't piss on you if you did pay me too. You probably want the hot and sloppy because you can't get it up more than once a night anyway. You just want to stiff me and not in the good way." The crowd cheered. They did not like the arrogant man much anyway.

Raising his gun up again he did not even speak, merely taking aim to blow Josephine's head off. Her eyes widene as he began to pull the trigger. The gun wobbled drunkenly in his hand, but at three feet even he could not miss.

Then suddenly the gun was gone. Henry Rutherford the third was pulling the trigger, but it took him a moment to realize that his hand was empty. "What the hell?"

"Sorry," Vlad said. Everyone blinked when they realized he was not by the bar. "It's my job to keep the peace." In his hand he held Henry's gun.

"How did you do that?" Henry asked, his eyes wide. Vlad shrugged. "Give that back!"

"When you leave town in the morning," Vlad said, setting it on the bar. He turned to the bartender. "Hugh, give me a pen and a piece of paper so I can give this man a receipt for his weapon."

"Uh, sure," the man said, looking around a little as if he could figure out how Vlad had gotten across the room.

Vlad smiled and turned as he heard Henry approaching. Henry reached for the gun, but Vlad moved it away and he banged his fingers on the bar top. "Ow!"

Vlad grinned and shook his head. "You're drunk. I'm willing to consider your poor manners to be just high spirits, but you need to go sleep it off."

"No! I won't be spoken to this way. My father—!"

"Your father," Vlad said. "Is a stablehand who at night will sometimes ties up your mother with her husband's horses and whips her before he takes her. You caught them when you were ten and heard her tell him what a fool her husband was for not knowing all these years. You then told your father who as it turned out only pretended not to know, rather than admit it publicly and divorce her and who then sent you off to bording school and now has you wandering out with minimal funds. You've been written out of his will and are only marginally supported by him until he's dead and no longer has to face the shame leaving everything to his niece."

Henry gawked like a fish. "How dyou know know that? Who told you?"

Hugh came back with the pen and he turned away, taking it and the plain napkin he was presented with. "I'll give you a recipt and— ah!"

To everyone's surprise Henry hard an Arkansas toothpick hidden in a sheath at his back right next to the scatter gun on his back. "I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you!" He stepped back, scooping his gun up off the counter. Vlad turned and Henry smiled, seeing the tip of his blade protruding from the man's belly. "Show'd you, didn't I you…" It took him a moment to realize something was not right.

Vlad should, by all rights, have been bleeding out on the floor. At bet gasping for breath as the life drained out of him. It was amazing he was not dead already.

Instead he stod for a moment, glaring angrily at Henry who had only just noticed the lack of blood on the knife and his "victim's" clothing. Before he could comment on it though a hand as cold as a corpse was around his neck and lifting him off the ground as if he were made of straw. Vlad's eyes blazed red as the fires of Hell and he snarled, not like a man but like a mountain lion. Ivory fangs shone in the light. He tried to scream, but his air would not come.

"You pathetic little man! You would dare attack _me_? Stab _me_ in the back?" Suddenly Vlad's sneer became a smile, so much more terrifying. "I have spent weeks torturing men better than you for far less severe insults. You are not even worth my time." He tilted his head, noticing that Henry was turning purple. "However, it was not only me you insulted. So I will take care of this like we did in the old country." People screamed in horror as Vlad's free hand shot out and into Henry's chest, snapping through his ribs like kindling.

A moment later the man's dead body was thrown the length of the room and out the door, into the street. Vlad held Henry's still twitching heart in one bloody hand. He turned, smiling politely to Josephine and bowed, presenting it to her. "Where I come from when a man insults a woman too reviously it was customary to tear out his heart and present it to her. She would then take it and put it in a box to keep with her so that others knew the consequences of… bad manners."

Josephine was pale and wide eyed. It was like a dream. Hands shaking she reached out and started to take it. Behind the bar Hugh cleared his throat. He had seen men knifed a dozen times. This was a bit different, but he was recovering faster than the silent customers. "I have a spare box." He brought up a wooden box from behind the bar. It had been used to ship one of the small round bottle of cider that gathered dust most times behind the counter.

"Of course," Vlad said, dropping the heart inside with a wet smack. Hugh quickly covered it with the napkin and slammed the lid shut. "With my compliments miss." People gasped as he brought his bloody hand to his lips and began licking his fingers clean, obviously enjoying himself. "Now if you will excuse me I suppose I should clean that up."

Vlad was worried that his loss of control might cost him friends, but as the story spread people actually seemed to like him more. Smiling shop owners came out as he passed to offer him free samples of their wares. Angel's whores promised him a free place in their beds for the asking and when Vlad took them up on their offers they only had more good things to say. Everyone did notice though that the girls seemed a bit paler and listless for a few days after he would visit one though. Josephine was even rumored to have kept Henry's heart, after smoking it like jerky so that it would not rot. Henry's body was never seen again, though after that a new skull decorated the gate to Vlad's property.

Not everyone though, accepted Vlad quite so easily. One day he was out at a funeral. Judge Gates had a sister who milked cows on one of the farms and the cow had kicked her one day, cracking her skull. Ray had asked Vlad to attend and while he despised sunlight, Vlad was old and powerful enough to walk in it when he had to. He took a place far away as the town priest Ivan read the prayers and watched as they lowerd the casket into the ground. As the crowd finally dispersed, leaving the husband and children to grieve alone, he heard a voice say, " _Good evening sir._ "

" _And a good evening to you my friend,_ " Vlad responded before realizing that the man speaking had done so in ancient Moldavian and he had answered the same way. He turned and saw Ivan standing there, holding a gold cross. He was an old man in normal clothes though his shirt was black and he wore a white collar. Vlad hissed and backed up against a nearby tree.

Ivan's eyes widned. In a raspy but deep voice with the hint of a German accent he said, "So it's true… you are a blϋtsauger… a vampire. But… but how can you walk in daylight?"

Turning his head away from the cross Vlad snarled. "I am the most ancient of monsters. It took three hundred years, but eventually I attained the power to walk in sunlight. It annoys me and disperses some of my power, but it will not kill me."

"Then maybe I will," Ivan said, approaching. "I thought it odd that you never came to church. When I heard the stories about you I hardly dare believe them. You are an abomination. An unholy demon of death and darkness."

Vlad snarled and pulled out his revolver, hand tightening on the ivory grip. "I am also armed. Your cross may protect you from my evil, but do you think it will save you from bullets?" He smiled. "I'll make you a deal. If you do not drop that cross right now, I will shoot you in the head. if the cross protects you from that I will leave and never return."

Ivan looked at the gun and paled. Swallowing he almost dropped the cross, but then slipped it into his pocket instead. To his surprise when he pulled his ahnd out without it Vlad put the gun back in its holster.

"How do you know me? A man might suspect what I am," Vlad said. "But you spoke a language not even used in my homeland any more."

He swallowed. "I am Ivan Van Helsing. My brother Abraham… he is friends with a Dr. Seward in London, one of his former pupils. A man named Quincy Morris delivered a letter in which a friend of Seward's wife Lucy described an encounter some years ago with a man in Transylvania."

"Harker," Vlad said.

The priest nodded. "Yes, he spoke of nights trapped in a castle with a monster. At first he kept it to himself, for fear of not being believed, but eventually he had to talk to someone and Mr. Seward owns a sanitarium. Harker checked himself in there and received the best treatment, available to the rich and on consultation Seward recounted the stories back to my brother who had spent time in Transylvania as a young man… and who assured him that Harker was not mad."

"I know all about Mr. Harker's stories," Vlad said. "My wives found him quite attractive. I would even say he was a charming if excessively nosy person. His wife Mina, reminded me of a lost love of my own and originally I meant to take her from him… but things did not go as planned and here I stand before you. Small world, is it not?"

Ivan swallowed. "What do you want here?"

"A new start. I have spent far too long haunting drafty castles in the Carpathian mountains. America has… so many possibilities."

"But you've killed…"

Vlad held up a hand. "Plenty of men kill. This town had no problem catering to the whims of gun toting brigands. Am I less acceptable because rather than shooting a man I drink the blood from their veins?" The old man said nothing. "The heroes of this land are men like Doc Holiday, Billy the Kid, Jesse James, and more. Men who built their reputations on the blood and deaths of others.

"If you know of me then you know that I have had better reasons for my evil than they ever did. My reputation was cultivated to save and serve my people and maintain their freedom. Since my death the lives I take are mostly done so to maintain my own life and even then rarely. Have you noticed any deaths since I arrived here that would lead you to think I mean the people of Devil's Gorge harm?"

"No," the priest admitted. "I've checked. Some people in town have reported being bitten by bats at night, but nobody has died from it. None of the graves in the cemetary have been disturbed."

"Nor will they," Vlad said. "In New Amsterdam and New Orleans… in large cities I will admit to indulging myself and even leaving new vampires in my wake. If they are fools they will be destroed. If they are smart they have a chance to live. But every rancher knows you do not kill the cows to get the milk or over hunt. The pickings are far slimmer here and it would be foolish for me to make more nosferatu."

"Is that what we are to you?" Ivan frowned. "Is this your idea of a cattle ranch?"

Vlad shrugged. "In a way. Cattle can thrive under the rancher's care and nobody loves them more. I need to feed and yes even kill, but not from my herd. Think of me less as a wolf and more a sheep dog." He tapped the star on his chest. "I keep the other predators at bay and feed on the tiny bit I need."

"You drink the blood of men," Ivan protested. "That is wrong!"

"Wine and wafers my friend." Ivan blanched. "Do not look so surprised. I was a Christian long before you were born. I lived in a time where those who did not follow the words of the church were tortured until they did and then killed. I performed such things myself." He smiled. "Naturally I will not quote the Bible, but did your own savior not promise life eternal for those who drank the blood of men and ate of their flesh? Did he not raise the dead to talk the Earth and promise ressurection for all?"

"That's not…" His words failed him.

Vlad laughed. "My friend if you wish to discuss religion and phylosophy I will gladly do so if you wish to come by my house some night or join me in my walks around town. All I ask is that you leave the holy symbols at home. I have met some of the greatest minds of history over the centuries I have lived. Now however, I came out to show respect to a friend. Now I wish to return home and rest away from the accursed sun. I assure you I can teach you things to make even your learned brother envious." Ivan still looked unconvinced. "I swear to you in the name of Dracula on my honor as a nobleman that I pose no threat to those who I call neighbor. I wish merely to dwell here in peace as I find new experiences."

"How can I trust that?"

Vlad frowned. Then Ivan jumped as he moved forward, reaching into his pocket. Vlad pulled his hand out and stared at Ivan's face, his jaw clenched. "I swear to _god_." His hand was smoking, flickers of blue-white flame coming from his fingers. A moment later he dropped the cross on the ground. Ivan saw the image of it burned into Vlad's palm.

Bending down Ivan picked it up, feeling its cool touch in his hand. "I believe you."

"Thank you my friend. Now if you will excuse me, I really must rest." Clenching his fist around the mark Vlad walked away, gliding easily through the tombstones and grave markers.

To Ivan's surprise he found himself actually conversing with Vlad on many things after that. Some of his parishoners did not like how their priest spent such times conversing with a heathen who never went to church, even if he was sheriff, but Van Helsing ignored them. Vlad was not one to discuss religion of course, though he did mention that his affliction with such things extended beyond the Christian beliefs.

"Oh yes, when one becomes a being of spirit the others are rarely welcoming to one who has spurned the afterlife for his own choices," he said. "If you think what happens when I touch a cross is bad you should see what happens when I am around a star if David or statue of Kali. One would think gods whose followers have spilled more blood than even I would be more accomidating." They did not agree out loud but Ivan did not try to speak religion with Vlad and in return Vlad did not speak against it. They also refrained from discussing Vlad's eating habits and personal history, though he did make the offer to take the vampire's confession should he ever choose to give one.

"If nothing else I could write your story down and send it to my brother. He would love to write a book about you."

"Perhaps later," Vlad said. "If you offer it as enticement you may even convince this brother of yours to visit."

Still the two of them found solace in what they did talk about. Opera and literature for example. Dracula was quite the fan of _Frankenstein_. "Actually there is a castle Frankenstein and a man there did experiment there on strange things and rumor says may have unleashed something," he told a surprised Ivan.

Naturally one night talking of the opera led to _Carmilla_. "Was that a true story?"

"If it was I don't know the vampires involved," Vlad admitted. "It was based on the poem _Christabel_ by Colerige."

"Not Polidori?"

"No. It is quite the story and I must admit my wives sometimes engage in similar relationships with each other and even local villlagers and gyspies as much as myself. After a few hundred years such ideas come to anyone. Without being too descriptive I myself have enganged in relations in… many ways over time, though even now I prefer women."

Vlad was surprised himself that time when the priest said, "I am not surprised and it hardly takes a century for such ideas to come to men or women. I have heard stories in the confessional that might surprise even you. Sometimes even my fellow priests cannot stick to their vows of celibacy and will do things with nuns or even young boys, claiming that such things allow them to keep their vows.

"I myself am celibate and have been since I entered the priesthood, but I am not dead Vlad. I am attracted to women and… well let us just say that Angel's girls have stories to tell should they ever choose to. I simply abstain and do not judge anything that does not hurt someone. If they feel it is wrong and truly wish to repent I give them the chance. Personally I leave such things up to God to judge. After all if he truly disapproved of such things the cross would burn them as it does you, would it not? Eve came from Adam's rib when Lilith left, so who knows what god intended?"

Dracula smiled. "If I ever run across Lilith in your lifetime, I will tell you." For a man who had yet to live a single lifetime Vlad found his new friend to be quite intelligent.

Before their talk could go much farther though, Terence came running up to them. "Vlad, I need your help. We've got trouble at my place."

Vlad nodded to Ivan. "We will take this up later my friend."

"Of course… Vlad," Ivan said, stepping back. As he watched the man and the monster wander off into the night to deal with whatever problem they had, the priest whistled. His brother Abraham was never going to believe this one.

Author's Note

I may do more with this story, butif you want to do something with it too, feel free as long as you give me credit for it. In the meantime please review this story and tell me what you liked or did not about it.


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